The Duck and the Knight
by fakiagirl
Summary: [Fakir&Duck] The story starting from where the show left off, and the ending Duck and Fakir should have had. Fakir wishes that Duck were a girl again, and writes a story to make it happen. Spoilers!
1. Chapter 1 The Duck and the Knight

_The Duck and the Knight**  
**_

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own _Princess Tutu _or any of the characters in it. I do, however, own this story, so . . . yeah.

**_A Note:_** In this story, the **Prologue** in this story is basically the story of _Princess Tutu_, and the little things at the beginning of each chapter that always end in questions or in open-ended statements are the voice of the **Narrator** (like in the T.V. show).

Major spoilers ahead!

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_The Duck and the Knight_

Special thanks to;

Sarah, for being my editor.

This story would be totally different (and a whole lot worse) without you!

In fact, it wouldn't even exist!

Ryan, for playing "would you rather (hug the duck or cry in the bathroom)?" and the criticism (read it anyway!).

Anna, for the input and helpful ideas.

Laura, for the name and personality of Miss Suki.

Samta, for input, and for wanting to read it and me to get it published!

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Prologue

There once was a Duck who fell in love with a Prince who had lost his heart. The Prince had fallen out of his story because it had no end, but the story's writer, who had died, still wanted to end it. So he let the Duck become a girl named Duck and the graceful ballerina Princess Tutu to start the story in motion again. So the story was able to end, though perhaps not how its author wanted, and the Prince got a Princess, though it was not Princess Tutu. If the Duck told the Prince that she loved him, she would turn into a speck of light and vanish. But she refused to vanish, and so the Duck became just a Duck once again, and the Prince's loyal Knight laid down his sword for a pen: and so ended the tale of Princess Tutu.

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Chapter 1

There once was a Duck who loved to dance. One day, a Knight sat by the Duck's pond, wishing to write stories. He saw the Duck, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw how lonely they were. The Knight wanted nothing more than to make the Duck's loneliness disappear. But the Knight was lonely as well.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Duck was sad. It was not for the reasons she thought it would be; it was not because of Mytho, or Prince Siegfried as she should call him now. Yes, she still loved him, but she did not mind so much that he was married to Rue – Princess Rue, now. She was happy for them: it felt like that was the way it was supposed to be.

It was not because she missed Rue, although Duck did wish that they had had a better chance to become good friends.

It was not even because Duck wanted to be Princess Tutu again. That was over now; Princess Tutu was from Mytho's – or, rather, the Prince's – story, and she had played her part. No, Duck was not sad because of those things.

She knew it was selfish, but Duck was sad because she wished that she could be a girl again.

Duck missed dancing, Pike and Lilie, seeing other people, being able to have a conversation with Fakir . . .

Being a girl had just felt so right, even though a duck was her true form.

She knew it was selfish, but that did not stop her from wishing it.

- - - - - - - -

Fakir looked around him. The duck pond was veiled in mist, stream rising from the water's surface. The mist was constantly moving, covering and uncovering the reeds surrounding the water's edge.

Somewhere, a clock struck midnight. Fakir looked around warily: was something moving, or was it just the mist? He gripped his sword tighter, waiting. He wasn't sure what for.

But then there it was: the mist in front of him began to solidify into a shadowy figure. Fakir moved into a ready stance. The figure moved, and something glinted in the starlight. There was no moon, but Fakir could see everything perfectly.

His quarry was a raven.

It was pure black, but clearly no normal raven; it was as tall as Fakir was. Its feathers, eyes, talons, and beak - they should have reflected the little light there was, but instead, it seemed to be part of the mist. The only thing that reflected the light was the raven's sword.

The raven struck; Fakir blocked. He wasn't sure how long the fight lasted, but Fakir always seemed to know where to move next. Suddenly, Fakir saw an opening, and he took it. The blade hit in a flurry of feathers. A blow straight through the heart; the raven never had a chance to block it. The mist shifted, obscuring the raven for a moment. And then everything was painfully clear.

It was not a raven on the other end of Fakir's sword.

It was Duck.

She was a girl again, and even more beautiful than Fakir remembered her being. Fakir felt his hands go numb. Her expression was frozen in one of shock.

Duck was dead, and Fakir had killed her.

Fakir fell to his knees. A scream stuck in his throat. He could not seem to let go of his sword. But no, it was not his sword. Fakir stared at his hands dumbly.

They were holding a pen. The pen made from her feather. The pen he had written her story with.

The raven's feathers floated around him, mocking him. But they weren't feathers. They were pieces of paper. Duck's story.

Duck was dead, and it was Fakir's fault.

Duck turned back into her true form, a duck. Fakir dropped the pen to catch her as she fell. Her eyes were open wide, staring. At him. Accusing him.

Fakir felt tears begin to stream down his face, dripping on the duck, the pieces of paper, his hands . . .

"Duck!" screamed Fakir.

- - - - - - - -

Fakir woke up gasping for air, his breath rasping in his throat. It felt as though he had been running, or screaming. And he was cold. Really cold. And was his face . . . wet? He reached a hand, numb with the cold, to his face, and realized that he had been crying in his sleep.

Fakir realized that he was shivering. Why was he so cold? _I must have thrown off the blankets while I was dreaming, _thought Fakir. He was so cold he ached all over, but he was too tired – and too sad – to have the energy to retrieve his blankets.

Slowly he realized that there was one spot on the middle of his chest that was warm. He looked up and saw a small shape with big blue eyes looking up at him. "Oh, Duck," said Fakir. It came out as a whisper. Duck tilted her head to one side and looked at him worriedly, her eyes sad.

"Quack?" she asked.

"I, uh, need to go to the bathroom," said Fakir suddenly. Duck got off his chest and watched as he stumbled across his room to the bathroom. He closed the door, but didn't even bother to turn on the light. The knight leaned against the counter, covered his face with his hands, and began to cry.

Duck waddled over to the bathroom door and sat outside. Fakir cried quietly, but she could still hear him. _It's not fair!_ thought Duck. _Why won't he let me comfort him? And why is he crying? I know he cried out my name in his sleep. Is it my fault? Am I the reason that he suffers? _Duck felt her own tears begin to fall. She felt so helpless. _If I were a girl, I could at least talk to him! He could tell me about his nightmare. I could tell him that I will be here for him. But I'm just a duck! _

Duck remembered when she had been in a similar position with Mytho; filled with the feeling of helplessness, sure that there was nothing she could do.

The duck stood up. _Fakir, I may not be able to do anything else, but I will be your friend and comfort you as best I can! _

The bathroom door opened, and out walked Fakir. When he saw her, he gave her a surprised look, and than gave her a small, sad smile.

"Silly Duck. It is too cold for you to be wandering around like that."

He picked her up and brought her back to his room, where he set her on his pillow. He grabbed a second pillow from his closet and set it next to Duck. He lay down, pulled the sheets up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

Duck sat there for a moment, before she closed her eyes as well. She listened to his breathing, and even though he gave a good impression of being asleep, it seemed like a long, long time before his breathing finally evened out and Duck was able to fall asleep as well.

- - - - - - - -

The first thing Fakir saw when he woke up was a Duck on the pillow next to him. "Still asleep, huh?" he whispered at her.

Moving quietly so as not to wake her, he made his bed and took a shower. Even though Fakir had not slept well last night, it was fairly early, and he knew there was no hope of him falling asleep again until he had figured out the answer to what was bothering him.

He slipped out the front door after a quick glance into his bedroom to make sure Duck was still asleep. He headed out towards the library. As he had expected, the door was unlocked; Autor was, as usual, at the library organizing books before it was even open.

"The library is not yet open," said a familiar voice. "You will have to come back later."

"What, you won't even let your own cousin talk to you?" asked Fakir. Autor appeared from behind a shelf.

"Oh. You." He adjusted his glasses. "You couldn't have waited until the library opens?"

"I'm not here for a book," said Fakir, his eyes adjusting to the familiar gloom. "I need advice."

"Ah," was Autor's only comment. He returned to shelving books. Fakir followed him around a shelf.

"Well, you see . . ." Fakir sighed. "So, I am the reincarnation of the knight from Drosselmeyer's story, but both the stories that he was in are finished now. Does that mean I am no longer the knight? But that is still a part of me. And what is my true self? A writer of stories? Or someone else?"

Autor handed Fakir a pile of books.

"And what about Duck? She was originally a duck, and she was just borrowing Princess Tutu's form, so that isn't her, but what about a girl?"

By this time, Autor had climbed the ladder leading to the second row of shelves, and was taking books from the pile that Fakir was holding to shelve them. He paused and sighed. "What do you want, Fakir?"

"What?"

"What are you getting at? Does this have a point?"

"I . . . I want to write a story for Duck. To make her a girl again." Fakir held the books against his chest, oblivious to Autor's frantic attempts to get them. "But . . . is it right? To do that? Or am I just being selfish?" Fakir looked off into space.

"Fakir!" said Autor, climbing back down the ladder. He stopped in front of Fakir and looked at him. "You have a gift; use it!" He grabbed the books from Fakir's hands. "Now, unless you can be of further use, get out of the library!"

Fakir walked out, slightly dazed.

_I _will _write a story for her. Even though it is selfish – but she misses it too – or am I just making that up as an excuse?_ Fakir put his hands in his pockets and sighed.

_I truly owe who I am to Duck. She has changed me into who I am. My life used to be what was most important to me, and that was why I was so afraid of what I thought was my fate. But now . . . I think that what I fear loosing most is Duck, so I guess that _she_ is most precious to me. If I lost her, something . . . important . . . would be missing from my life. If she stays a duck, I feel like I will loose her, but in a different way. _He suddenly found himself in front of his house.

Duck had been waiting for Fakir. He had put a small flap in the back door with a latch that she could easily work, but she had wanted to be there when he got home.

She had been entertaining herself by organizing his desk, although she couldn't get into the drawers. It was a bit difficult, but she had managed to get by without spilling any ink. So when Fakir walked in the door, she jumped down and ran to the door to greet him by quacking happily.

_Honey, I'm home,_ thought Fakir wryly. He picked up Duck and carried her to his desk. When he saw it, he smiled. _Duck tries to be so sweet, even when she is a duck._ He looked at her. "Thank you."

"Quack!" she said.

Fakir set her down gently on a clear space on his desk's surface and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. In his mind's eye, Fakir had a sudden image of Duck, his pen piercing her heart, the pieces of her story falling around him. . .

Sweat broke out on his forehead. _No. I will not let that happen! It does not matter if she is originally just a duck. Her life has already been messed with. It is unfair to keep what Duck wants away from her just because it is not often done!_ He felt a sudden burst of determination.

"Duck, uh . . ." Fakir met her eyes. "Would you like to be a girl again?"

Duck thought she was imagining things. "Quack?" _What?_

"Well, um . . ." said Fakir. "See, I think I – I would really like it if you were a girl again. So . . . I could write a story for you."

Duck took a step closer to him. It didn't get her very far, but now she could look straight into his eyes. "Quack." She nodded, and put her head on his shoulder. (She is on his desk, remember?)

"Okay," said Fakir. "Where to begin?"

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**_Author's Note: _**My first chapter! Yay! I hoped you liked it!

The title is imitating _The Prince and the Raven_ (in case you didn't notice that), but obviously the storyline is a little different!

Sadly, I had the most fun writing Fakir's dream (although I definatly didn't enjoy hurting him! Fakir is my favorite character!). I like how it turned out, but obviously I'm a little biased . . .

Now, all the mistakes. First off; electricity. I can't really tell whether or not there's any electricity in Gold-Crown Town (or Kinkan Town, however you spell it). There are small motorized vehicles, but no real _cars_, and because of the whole "spirit of the lamp" thing, that really seems to be their main source of light. So, please forgive me for saying that Fakir "didn't even bother to turn on the light."

Also, names; my explanation is a little long, so it's at the end of Chapter 2.

Okay, next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2 The Ugly Duckling

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 2

There once was a duck that lived in a pond with all her brothers and sisters. But the duck was different, and no one ever accepted her. One day she became a swan, and everyone else thought that she was beautiful. But was she really any better off than before?

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Fakir wrote all day. Duck tried to be helpful, but writing seemed to consist of writing down a sentence, muttering to oneself, swearing, and then scratching out the whole thing. He wrote a whole page, and then crumpled it up and threw it away. He put his head in his hands and swore.

"Quack quack. Quaaack!" _Fakir, you need a break. Right now!_ Duck grabbed hold of his sleeve and attempted to pull him out the door.

"Duck . . ."

"Quack!" _Lunch!_

"Oh, alright. I'll eat something." _I bet she thinks I'm pushing myself too far. This is nothing. _

He _had_ managed to make a page of notes for her story (only half of which were crossed out), so he grabbed that, some paper, his pen and ink, a duck, and a sandwich. Then he headed for the pond.

- - - - - - - -

When it became too dark to write, Fakir admitted defeat and went inside.

Duck slept at the pond, but she could see the faint lamplight shining at her from Fakir's bedroom window. It was very late when the light finally went out. She tucked her head under her wing and slept.

- - - - - - - -

The next morning, Fakir woke up early to write. He shut his bedroom door and would not let Duck come in. She did not protest too loudly because she knew that he was concentrating hard. Midway through the day, though, she yelled at him until he came out.

His shirt was only half buttoned up, and his hair stood on end as if he had run is fingers through it a couple hundred times too many. Duck had a sudden urge to smooth out his hair. "Quack!" she told him. _You shouldn't do this to yourself!_

He knelt down to her eye level. "Duck, I am almost finished! I'm going to give you the ability to switch between a girl and a duck using a pendant again. I figured it would be easier if it was a conscious decision, instead of the whole dumping-water-on-you thing. So you have to touch the pendant and wish that you were a girl or a duck. But I need to buy you the pendant!" He looked at her, avoiding thinking about how wrong this could go. "I'll get you a nice one. That is where I'm going now."

Duck gave an indignant quack.

"Uh, after I eat something."

- - - - - - - -

Fakir walked down the road to the area where all the stores generally were. "What sort of necklace should I get her? Nothing too expensive, but this _is_ a necklace that should last her whole life . . ." He tried not to think too hard about where that thought led. That was another thing; where would she live? Would she resume ballet? He would have to discuss that with her after she was a girl again.

He paused in front of a shop with a great deal of jewelry in the front window. It all looked like it would cost a fortune. "Well, worth a try," he muttered, and opened the door.

The shelves were lined with display cases. He was immediately lost. It was bigger than he had expected; he could easily spend days looking at all the jewelry. "May I help you?" asked the store clerk.

"Well, I'm looking for a necklace." He didn't want to be jewelry shopping! "With a pendant. Something kind of simple."

"Ah. Girlfriend?" asked the girl.

"Well . . ." Fakir hesitated. He couldn't explain Duck to a complete stranger. But what should he say? "She's kind of a friend."

"Uh-huh," said the girl. He could tell she didn't believe him. "Right this way." She led him over to a shelf covered with the most expensive-looking pendants he had ever seen. "Or were you looking for something a little less expensive?"

Soon after Duck became a duck again, Karon, the man who had adopted Fakir after his parents died, had realized that Fakir was never going to take after him and become a smith. Karon had bought Fakir a house next to the duck pond, where he lived now. Fakir was eighteen now, old enough to fend for himself, but he had yet to get a job, and Karen was his only source of money, along with the few books he occasionally sold one or two copies of.

"Yeah, actually, I was."

"Ah. You need our used jewelry section. Totally unique, totally cheap." She winked at him.

This shelf was hidden behind all the others. It was filled with a random collection of stones and chains and little birds with fake gold eyes and copper wings painted to look like silver. "Uh, thanks?" he said uncertainly.

"No problem!" she said, smiling brightly, and left him to what felt like his doom.

Half and hour later, Fakir had worked his way down to the last shelf. And there, piled beneath a brooch with a flower on it that looked as though it had been squashed under a horse, was the perfect pendant for Duck.

"Girlfriend?" asked the woman at the cash register.

"Um . . ." He gave up. "I guess."

- - - - - - - -

When Fakir got home, it was too late to finish Duck's story and turn her into a girl. But he did have enough time to finish the final draft.

He sat down at his desk and found his rough draft and some blank paper with gilded edges. It was the best quality: he was going to get a cover for this when he was done. He got his best quality ink from a drawer, along with his Duck-feather pen.

The pen he normally used was made from one of her feathers as well, but this one was the one he had used to write all the stories of hers that had come true.

He closed his door. He didn't think that he could write with Duck watching him.

Then he sat down and began to write.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Author's Note: _**On names: "Autor" means "author" in German, in case you were wondering.

Also; I have had a few complaints on my use of "Duck" rather than "Ahiru," so let me clear up why I did that.

This story is based off of the T.V. series, as the events in this story take place after it. When the original Japanese version was translated it into the English version, the name of the main character was translated too. If you watch it in Japanese, her name is Ahiru; in English, it is Duck. Whether it should have been translated could certaintly be debated; _Ahiru_ is her actual name, and how many people do you know whom you call by the _meaning _of their name rather than their actual name? However, the point of having her name mean "duck" in the first place is because she is, in fact, a duck, so it is sort of a pun ("a duck named Duck").

(Of cource, it should then also be arguable that since Fakir's name in Japanese is "Fakia," that should be used as his name. This is different, though, because it is just a matter of pronunciation. In Japanese, words can't end with an "r," but with a Japanese accent "Fakia" and "Fakir" actually sound approximately the same.)

I chose to use "Duck" rather than "Ahiru" because that is her name in the English version of the show. It is also fun to play around with; by changing the capitalization of the "d" I can also completely change the meaning of the word, but the two words are still interchangable. I apologize if my choice in that matter caused any discomfort.


	3. Chapter 3 The Man Who Wrote Stories

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 3

There once was a man who wrote stories. The man did not want to play with the fates of others, like his grandfather, but the man did want to change the life of the one he loved so that she could join him and they could live happily. But did doing that really make the man or his lover happy?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The mist still clung to the surface of the duck pond. Duck opened her eyes. _I wonder how Fakir is doing?_ Just then, Fakir's door opened and the knight stepped out and came over to Duck's pond. She swam over to where he was standing. He was smiling.

"Duck. I'm done."

Duck looked up at him. "Quack?" _Really?_ She smiled at him.

He picked her up. "I want to turn you into a girl inside, if that is okay. I left the last sentence unfinished, and I don't want to accidentally drop the story in the pond." He smiled again, and she returned it as best as a duck can.

He carried her into the kitchen and set her down on the floor. He went into his room to get the story, the pendant, and his pen. He set them down on the kitchen table and picked up the pendant. He knelt down to Duck's eye level. Her big blue eyes looked up into his green ones. Fakir held his hand out to the duck, and let what he was holding dangle on its chain in front of her. "This, Duck, is your new pendant."

It was a stone of a beautiful blue-green color, oval in shape, which hung from a silver chain. Duck had never felt to happy before. Fakir smiled warmly at her. "Like it?"

"Quack!" _Yes! It's beautiful!_

"I thought you might. It even comes with its own velvet box for easy storage. Here, Duck."

Duck bowed her head (not that she needed to), and Fakir slowly and carefully placed it over her head.

Fakir picked up his pen and pressed it down on the paper lying, waiting, on his desk.

" . . . and so, the Duck once again became a girl."

There was a flash of light, blue-green this time instead of the red it used to be, and suddenly, where a Duck used to be, there was a girl.

Fakir's face turned scarlet, and he turned suddenly to face the wall opposite Duck. "Not this again," he muttered.

As is often the case with this sort of thing, ducks do not normally wear clothes, but girls often do. In the transition between the two, unfortunately for Fakir and Duck, clothes are not often a by-product, or any kind of product at all. Therefore, Duck was currently not wearing anything, except for a blue-green pendant on a silver chain.

"Here." Fakir took off his shirt and threw it at her over his shoulder, for lack of any other available clothing, blankets, or coverings of any kind. He threw it with just enough force that it nearly knocked her over. "I'm sorry. I had forgotten about this. I wasn't thinking."

Silence.

_Oh, damn it, have I killed her? Please, no . . ._

For a moment, Duck was stunned. But then suddenly it hit her.

_I am a girl again! I can talk! And . . . and . . . I guess I should put something on._ She shrugged on the shirt.

It smelled . . . nice, and it was warm. She suddenly realized how much warmer feathers were than nothing. She looked up at Fakir. He still had his back turned to her. She smiled. He was always so nice to her. He was letting her borrow his shirt. How sweet. She wondered if he was cold without a shirt on . . . _Oh._ She felt herself blush slightly. That was another thing; there are only so many shades of red a duck can turn, but a human is a different matter.

She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say.

Fakir started to turn around and then hesitated, suddenly nervous. It had been so long . . . but he could still see her face clearly, as if the last time he had seen her had not been a year ago. Would she look any different? _It's no use stressing,_ he thought, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. _Besides, she's still Duck._ He swallowed and turned around.

"Hi, Fakir," said Duck.

Duck was standing uncertainly, her hands clasped together. Under different circumstances, Fakir might have smiled. His shirt was ridiculously big on her; it reached past her knees, and her hands were totally invisible inside the sleeves. Fakir felt himself turning slightly pink. She was even prettier than he remembered her being.

Suddenly he came out off his state of shock and smiled at her. Was it just him, or was he doing that a bit too frequently lately?

"Hello, Duck." They stood there for a moment, smiling stupidly at each other.

"You've grown."

"Yes, I have."

"So I don't suppose your old clothes would fit you? Not that any of them got saved anyway."

"Nope."

A moment of silence followed.

"Erm, I suppose you would like something to eat," Fakir asked finally.

"Yes, please."

"Okay. I'll just get a shirt."

He went into his room, calling over his shoulder, "I guess I'll need to buy you some clothes, since you can't just wear _that_ all the time." Fakir slapped his hand across his forehead. "But, wait – how am I going to be able to buy you clothes if -?"

"I'll come with you as a duck. I can still change back, you know." Duck reached up and touched her pendant lightly.

"Hm," replied Fakir, appearing from the recesses of his bedroom. "And I'm assuming you want to be re-enrolled in the ballet school?"

"Yes," replied Duck. "Fakir?"

"Hm?" He looked at her.

"Are you going to return to ballet too? I mean, part of why you stopped was to write stories, right? But you don't write stories all day, and . . ." _And part of why you stopped was to look after me, because I was just a duck again. But now I'm back to being a girl. _She looked at him inquiringly.

"I . . . I think I will, Duck." He sighed. "No relaxing today, then."

Duck looked downcast. "I'm sorry, Fakir."

"Hey. I don't mind. It's fine. Uh . . . I have a kind of limited food supply now, but what do you want to eat?"

- - - - - - - -

Fifteen minutes later found Duck and Fakir looking in a clothes-store window.

It had taken them the entire way there to decide on Duck's form of transportation. Walking all that way was too hazardous for a duck, said Fakir, so he carried her. Fakir needed his hands, though, so Duck sat on his shoulder. She kept falling off, but when she sat on his head she nearly pulled his hair out. Frustrated and disheveled, Fakir was ready to scream, so an annoyed Duck perched inside his shirt with just her head peeking out above his collar, and refused to move.

The store they had chosen was conveniently full of happy people in bright colored clothing whose sole job in life was to help customers. The first one that saw Fakir made a beeline for him.

"Hello, how may I help y-? Um . . ." She had spotted the duck situated under Fakir's chin.

"We don't need any help, thank you very much," said Fakir, his I-am-a-knight-so-do-not-bug-me-or-I-will-cut-you-up-with-my-sword attitude back in full force. He was _not_ in the mood to deal with happy people in bright-colored clothing who, contrary to what one might expect, were mostly failing at their goal in life (to be helpful).

Fakir removed Duck from his shirt and set her on the ground, where she promptly proceeded to run in the direction of some bit of clothing that had caught her eye.

For a seemingly interminable amount of time, Fakir then had to follow Duck around the seemingly endlessly large store. Every now and then, Duck would tug on some item of clothing, Fakir would grab it for her, Duck would rush into the dressing room, there would be a flash of blue-green light, and Fakir would toss the clothes at her. Anything that fit her would be tossed back at him, she would turn back into a duck, and the search would continue.

Eventually, Duck had gone through what felt like every item of clothing in the entire store. Fakir thought he was going to scream. The woman at the counter looked at him a bit strangely, but it actually managed to not cost him an insane amount of money, since all that searching had resulted in only three outfits, a collection of undergarments, various random accessories, and two pairs of shoes.

Duck changed into a new outfit in the dressing room, and a girl, in a knee-length skirt and a tank-top with a complementary jacket, and a knight walked out of the store.

_Thank goodness _that_ is over with,_ thought Fakir. He sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, too. "So, the ballet school next?" asked Fakir.

"Yes," said Duck. Fakir glanced at her.

"You seem kind of quiet lately."

Duck looked at the ground. "Well, I guess that I am not used to being a girl. I'm so used to having to communicate with you by quacking; I just don't know what to say."

"Okay."

They walked in silence all the way to the school.

- - - - - - - -

When they looked in the principal's office, Duck was surprised to not see Mr. Cat.

_Well, I shouldn't be! I guess the school had to have changed, too, and not just me._

The woman sitting in the office looked up from her paperwork. Fakir walked in, Duck trailing behind him.

"Hello!" said the woman brightly. She stood up and walked around to the front of her desk. "My name is Miss Suki, and I am principal here. May I help you?"

"My name is Fakir. This is Duck."

Duck smiled at her.

"We came here to re-enroll in the ballet division?"

Miss Suki clasped her hands together. "Ah! New students! Re-enroll . . . you have been here before?"

"Yes," replied Fakir. "Unfortunately, a year ago . . . something came up and we had to leave."

"Fakir and Duck, you said?" she asked, returning to her desk to shuffle through some papers. "Ah! Here we are. Mr. Cat was principal of the ballet division at that time?"

"Yes," answered Duck. "What happened?"

"Well, it seems that soon after you two left, the school expanded and it no longer became efficient to have one teacher teach _all_ the ballet classes _and_ be in charge of the entire ballet division. There are now separate teaches for the advanced and beginner classes, and me!" She smiled. "Indeed, the school has grown so much that all the dorms are full. I'm afraid that if you live out of town, you will have to rent a room in one of the inns around here. Are you two from out of town?"

Fakir glanced at Duck. "No, we are within walking distance."

_What?_ thought Duck. _But if I can't live in the dorms, where will I live? Would Fakir -?_ Fakir shook his head slightly at her. They would discuss it later.

"It appears here, Fakir, that you were one of our best students. Based on this, I will put you back in the advanced class."

Fakir nodded.

"Duck?"

"Yes?"

"It seems that you were in the beginner class, but you kept getting put on probation. I don't want to put you back on probation just because of what the record says, so I will let you start anew in beginner. Okay?" She winked at Duck. "Just do your best and you should be fine."

"Okay," replied Duck, smiling her bright Duck-smile.

"Once a week there is a combined class instead of what you would normally have then. Both of you will be in that together. Once a month, you can demonstrate what you have learned, and it will be decided, based on that and your performance from the past month, if you will be moved up to the next class or not.

"I will have new uniforms for you tomorrow, so come here before your classes start."

Fakir and Duck nodded.

"I will see you tomorrow, then!"

"'Bye," said Duck and Fakir and they exited the office.

"Fakir?"

"Yes, Duck."

"Where am I going to stay?"

Fakir put his hands in his pockets. "Well, since you don't have any money, you can't stay at an inn, and the innkeeper probably wouldn't want a duck to live there anyway –"

Duck clenched and unclenched her fists and made her mad-Duck face at him,

"- and I guess you'd want to be close to your pond, and since I do have an extra room, I guess you can stay at my house."

It took a moment to sink in. Duck had thought this might happen, but it still didn't feel quite . . . real. "Really, Fakir?"

He glanced at her. "Yeah."

"Thank you."

"Huh?" Her voice had sounded weird, like she was going to cry or something. "Duck – you okay?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm just not used to people being so kind to me." She smiled brightly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

- - - - - - - -

They came to a stop in front of Fakir's house. Fakir opened the door for Duck, and paused when he realized that she was no longer right behind him. She stood in front of the first step, hesitating.

_This is my home now. Once I step in there . . . I'm just a duck. Do I have the right to be a girl and live like one? But it does not matter what I look like, right? I'm still Duck, and I will always be Duck. It's okay to be a girl then, right?_

"Come on, Duck. We have to put your room together."

Duck looked up at him. _Fakir. If I can't be a girl for myself, then I can at least be one for you._ She smiled. "Okay, Fakir." She saw the worried look on his face, but he turned away quickly to hide it.

"I'll show you your room."

He led her through his house to a small, hardly noticeable door. He opened it and gestured for her to go inside.

In one corner there was a small bed with a little table next to it. On the far side of the room was a window, curtain-less, but a curtain rod hung above it. If offered a view of a tree, currently leafless, and a small meadow. In another corner there was a plain chest of drawers in a dark-colored wood. Next to in was a small table and chair.

The entire room was covered in a thick layer of dust.

"When I moved in, this was an extra room. Karon bought me this house when he realized that I would never want to be a smith like him. He also got me new furniture, so I put all of my old furniture in here. You can use it." He backed out of the room. "Open the window."

She obeyed and breathed deeply, leaning on the window sill. _This is nice. I can still say hello to the birds every morning._

"Duck! Stop dawdling!"

She jerked upright. "Yes!"

He came in the door, his arms full of rags and a broom. "Here." He thrust a broom at her. "Sweep." He grabbed a rag and began to wipe it across the surface of the dresser. She paused looking at him, and then began to sweep the floor.

Fakir made it halfway through the room before he noticed Duck had stopped sweeping.

"Um, Fakir? You, um, missed a spot here." She was pointing to a large section of the chair.

"Don't tell me how do dust!" But he went back and fixed it anyway.

Duck helped Fakir get the dust out of the mattress and flip it over. Fakir held the curtain rod while Duck threaded the pale green curtains on it, and he made her bed while she hung them up.

"Thank you for helping me, Fakir."

"Just don't use up all the hot water in the morning." Her smile caught him off-guard. "Uh, do you need anything else?"

"Nope."

"Well, should we buy some food, and then dinner?"

For a moment, Duck saw how tired he was. "Fakir, are you okay?"

"Of course I am, Duck. Why wouldn't I be?" But his voice did _not_ sound decisive, and he didn't look at Duck when he said it.

Duck followed him out of her room, worried, but knew that there was nothing that she could do right now.

- - - - - - - -

Duck lay awake, hugging her duck-shaped pillow (apparently Fakir had rescued it from her old room just after she became a duck again, although where he had kept it for the past year she had no idea). She had her feet on her pillow, as always when she was thinking.

She stared at the ceiling, invisible in the darkness.

_Dinner was nice. I didn't know that Fakir was such a good cook. Those were really nice candles, too. I'm glad we bought them. They sort of reminded me of Fakir somehow. And Fakir was being so helpful. I wonder what is bothering him, though. I wish he would tell me what his dream was about._

She sighed and rolled over on to her side. She was wearing Fakir's shirt again. She had forgotten to buy some pajamas or a nightgown, and Fakir never mentioned anything about his shirt. Normally, she would have given it back to him without being asked, but it was so . . . comforting. She needed that comfort, although she could not pinpoint why.

_Hm. So this was Fakir's bed? Did he ever lay awake and stare at his ceiling? Did he dream about being the knight from the story? I really don't know that much about him, like what he used to dream about doing. He is nicer than he used to be, but he still isn't always acting like his true self. I hope he doesn't regret making me a girl. _

The duck sighed, and eventually fell asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Author's Note: _I'm sorry Fakir is so OOC, but I have trouble writing for him. '**

Oh, and sorry I had to replace Mr. Cat, but all of the animal-people became animals again at the end, right? Ballet just isn't the same without Mr. Cat, though . . .


	4. Chapter 4 The Lost Knight

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 4

Once there was a knight who fought valiantly for whatever cause needed him. The knight always believed he was doing the right thing, even when he could not tell right from wrong. So when the knight killed his lover, he first experienced the feeling of doubt. But surely, thought the knight, the life of one is not worth anything compared to the lives of many others. But if the knight could not tell right from wrong, how could he tell if the worth of anything could really be measured?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fakir woke up to the noise of a large _thump_ from the room next to, and at an angle to, his.

"What?!" He sat up, throwing off his blankets. He ran to his door, and throwing it open, ran to Duck's.

"Duck?"

There was no answer. He opened the door, expecting the worse (although what that would be he wasn't sure). He stood in the doorframe, staring.

Duck was getting up from the ground, apparently recovering from being attacked by a flock of small birds, birdseed scattered a bit on the floor. Duck was wearing the shirt he had let her borrow.

_Why is she still wearing that? It hardly fits me anymore. I've had it for ages,_ thought Fakir idly.

"Hello, Fakir!" she said happily. "I didn't think that the birds would remember me, or be able to find me here!"

Fakir blushed slightly at his overreaction. "Good morning," he muttered, and began to close the door. He hesitated, and sighed. "Duck, you can take a shower first."

"Thanks!" she replied brightly.

Duck stared at the now-closed door to her room. _Poor Fakir. I wish he would tell me what is bothering him._

Fakir returned to his bed, staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head. _Is this what I get for defying my fate? Nightmares? I can't even tell how the world works anymore. Is this my fate now? To kill Duck? Nightmares usually reflect your inner fears, but what was that one supposed to mean? Do I fear that I will somehow kill Duck? Or is it a little more cryptic than that?_

When Fakir heard the water turn off, he gathered up his clothes. Duck came out of the bathroom, dressed in a set of her new clothes.

Fakir was relieved to find that Duck had managed to not use up all the hot water. It soothed his nerves, and for a moment he was not worrying, not stressing, not really thinking at all.

But eventually, he had to turn off the water and face whatever was going to happen today.

He stepped out the door and was immediately assaulted by the smell of something . . . really good. Food.

He walked into the kitchen and was met with the sight of Duck placing pancakes on the table. Were those dark spots in the pancakes . . . chocolate chips?! Fakir swallowed, his eyes following Duck's hand as she poured a generous amount of maple syrup on the pancakes. Each stack of pancakes had blueberries of it, and one stack was considerably larger than the other . . .

"Good morning, Fakir!" said Duck, smiling brightly. "I thought I would make breakfast, since I thought you would be hungry. That one is yours." She pointed to the larger pile of pancakes.

Fakir slowly sat down. "Uh, good morning Duck," he said distractedly.

He stared at the food. Pancakes. He had last had pancakes – when _had _he last had pancakes? When he was five? He wasn't sure. He had no idea _where_ Duck had gotten the blueberries, maple syrup, or chocolate chips (he didn't remember buying those), but he didn't really care. It tasted – well, words weren't really good enough to describe it.

"Do you like it, Fakir?"

Fakir paused in the midst of stuffing his face. "Yeah. It's really good. I mean, it's okay."

Duck hid her smiled behind her own pancake. _Fakir _does _like it. Is that my first complement from him?_

When it was time to leave, Fakir held the door open for Duck, and locked the door behind them.

"Here," he said, and held out his hand to her. He opened it, revealing a key. "This is the extra key to the house. I wouldn't want you locked out for some reason."

"Oh. Thanks." Duck took the key and tucked it in her bag.

- - - - - - - -

When they reached the campus, the door to the girls' dorms was just opening, and two familiar figures appeared from behind it. One had pink hair in a bun, and the other had two blonde pigtails.

"Is that Duck? With Fakir?" cried the pink-haired girl.

"Oh, Duck has returned, as clumsy as ever. How cute!" replied the blond pig-tailed girl.

"Pike? Lilie?"

"Duck! You're back!" cried Pike. The two girls ran towards Duck, and nearly knocked her over while hugging her.

"Mytho and Rue left!"

"You must be heartbroken! How cute!"

"We're in the advanced class now! Are you really coming back?"

"You are so far behind! You will fail for sure! How cu-"

"And walking to school with Fakir!"

"You just have the worst luck in love!"

There was a moment of silence, during which Pike and Lilie switched their gazes to Fakir.

"What?" said Duck. She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that!" She waved her hands wildly back and forth. "You see, I had nowhere to stay, since the dorms are so full, so Fakir is letting me stay at his house, and –" Pike and Lilie looked at her. 'Urk,' went Duck.

"Wow, you two are _that close_?" exclaimed Pike.

"Fakir will probably dump Duck in a day! How cute!" cried Lilie, heart-shines in her eyes.

Fakir felt a throbbing vein start in his temple. "Come on, Duck, or we are going to be late." He grabbed her hand and began to drag her to Miss Suki's office.

"See you later!"

"Bye, Duck! Oh, it will be so cute when Duck fails!"

"Bye, Fakir!" the two girls chorused.

As Duck and Fakir walked into Miss Suki's office, she looked up from her desk. "Ah. Fakir and Duck! Right. Your uniforms." She stood and took two piles of clothes sitting on a table and placed them in a bag. "Here you are! Have a great first day!" She smiled at them, and was met with the as-often unsmiling face of Fakir and the contrast of Duck's bright smile.

"Thank you," said Fakir.

When they were out in the hallway again, Fakir removed his uniform from the bag and placed them it in his ballet bag. "Since I am in the advanced class, I will see you at lunch or after school."

"Okay, Fakir."

Fakir looked at her, and tilted his head slightly. "Don't worry. I'm sure you will do fine." Then he turned and strode off.

It brought a smile to Duck's lips for just a moment before she began walking down the hall the other way towards her classroom. _I wonder if I will know anyone in my class. Probably not, if Pike and Lilie have already gotten into the advanced class. I guess I have been gone a long time, and I haven't been practicing! Well, I _was_ a Duck, and it is sort of difficult –_

"Ow!" cried Duck. She looked up, and found herself face-to-face with her classroom door.

The door was opened from the inside, and a face appeared.

"Oh, Duck, did you run into the door? How cute!" exclaimed the blond girl from behind the door.

Duck nearly fell over. "Lilie?"

"And Pike!" Pike appeared next to Lilie.

"I thought that you were in the advanced class," said Duck. The door opened all the way, and Duck fell inside.

"Well, Duck, we transferred to beginner to be with you –"

"And watch you fail! It will be _so cute_!"

The clock chimed.

"Oh, Duck, you just made it! I hope Mr. Cat doesn't get mad at you anyway!"

_Mr. Cat?!_ thought Duck. _I didn't know _he _was teaching this class!_ She felt sweat drops form on her forehead.

"Welcome to ballet class!" called a voice. The girls looked up.

"What?" said Duck. "_Not a cat?!_"

"Shhh!" whispered Pike and Lilie.

The man up front smiled. "We have some new students today, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Catrofindali, but you may just call me Mr. Cat."

- - - - - - - -

Some hours later, Duck had finished her first day back at school.

"That was so cute when Duck fell in front of Mr. Cat."

"What are you talking about? You were the one who pushed her!"

"What? No! I wouldn't do _that_!"

Duck sighed, and then spotted Fakir on the other side of the bridge that connected the classrooms and the dorms. "Bye Pike, bye Lilie!"

"Bye Duck!"

Duck ran over to Fakir. "Hi Fakir!"

"Hello, Duck." They began walking side-by-side towards Fakir's house. "How was your first day back?"

"Well, I think that I'm going to need to practice a lot to catch up, though."

"Yeah. Me too."

As the two of them reached Fakir's house, Fakir realized that Duck had been a girl for a full day without turning into a duck at all for the first time in a year.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Author's Note: _**Hi again! I tried to make Mr. Catrofindali as un-Mr.-Cat-like as possible because, well, he is not Mr. Cat. I only made their names be so similar to give Duck that scare when she first hears her new teacher's name. -evil laughter-


	5. Chapter 5 Sight

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 5

There once was a person who had trouble seeing. One day, someone bought that person some glasses that allowed them to see with perfect clarity. But did that person really want to see everything clearly?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Several days after Duck's first full day as a girl, Fakir and Duck were once again walking to school together. As they reached the school campus, Fakir paused.

"See you in first class."

"Huh? Oh, right! Today is a combined class!"

Fakir nodded and walked off.

Not too long after, Duck was winding her way down the hallway, singing to herself. "La, lala, lala . . ."

The clock chimed.

"Oh, no!" cried Duck. "I am going to be late!" She raced down the hall and was, for once in her life, on time.

The join class was held in a larger room than the beginner class. As she filed in with the rest of the students, she looked around curiously. This room had high windows like most rooms in the school, but they were larger than in the room the beginner's class was held in. The piano was much larger as well, and the bars only stretched half-way across the room.

All of the students were sitting on the floor in a semicircle facing the center of the room. Spotting Fakir, Duck walked over to him and sat down next to him. He glanced at her, and then returned his gaze to the door that their teacher would eventually emerge from. Duck looked at him worriedly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," answered Fakir.

He looked a little on edge, though. Duck was about to press him about what was bothering him when a sudden decrease of general noise indicated the arrival of the teacher.

"Good morning, everyone!"

Duck looked up. _Mr. Cat _again_?_

"He teaches the most classes now!" said Pike, suddenly appearing next to Duck.

"Oh, Duck has to endure the torture all week long!" cried Lilie. The "How cute!" never had a chance to fully form, though, because Mr. Cat was talking again.

"Today we will be practicing _pas de deux_!"

Duck felt a sudden shift of attention in her general direction. No on was staring directly at her, though. And all the girls seemed to be blushing slightly, and a few small giggles escaped some of them.

_What?_ thought Duck. She looked around her, and then her gaze fell on Fakir. A vein was pulsing in his forehead, and Duck suddenly realized why he had seemed a little on edge.

The ballet division was mainly girls, and Duck had still only seen a few boys here so far. Besides Fakir. And if Mytho had taken up most of the attention last year, with Fakir getting only a few fan girls . . .

Duck could almost feel the tension in the air. All the girls seemed to be slowly gravitating towards Fakir.

_It's like he's a magnet!_ thought Duck. It made her feel slightly angry and upset, with some other feelings mixed in that she couldn't quite place.

" . . . so, Fakir, could you please dance the male part as an example?" Mr. Cat was saying.

Fakir slowly stood up, and Duck could hear the girls' holding their breath.

"Would you like to choose your own partner?"

"Yes."

It was dead quiet. A hand suddenly appeared in Duck's vision.

There was a collective gasp.

Fakir gave her a small smile, which she returned. A slight blush came to her cheeks, and she reached out to take his hand.

Then she hesitated. Her had withdrew slightly and she lowered her head.

"Fakir, I . . . I can't. I'm just a – I'm not advanced enough, I don't know all the steps . . ."

A warm hand took her own, and Fakir pulled her gently to her feet.

"Don't be silly, Duck." He looked into her eyes, and she felt a bit of her strength return to her. "You danced perfectly last time."

The whispering started.

"_What?_"

"_They have danced together before?_"

"_He danced a _pas de deux _with _her?!"

Mr. Cat ignored the minor drama going on. "Do you have a specific song in mind?"

"Yes," answered Fakir. Duck nodded. Fakir gave the name of the song, and Fakir and Duck stood in the starting position.

"Just like last time," Fakir murmured in her ear.

The song started, and they danced.

_Fakir has always made me feel better. He has always been here for me. Even though you could just claim it was to help Mytho, he always was so nice to me. Well, almost always. _

A faint and traitorous thought reached Duck from some hidden corner of her mind. _I wish Fakir would protect me like he protected Mytho . . ._ She quickly shut that thought out, but it was too late.

_I mean, it's not like I would want anything to happen to me that would _require _rescuing, _thought Duck hurriedly. She tried not to think about how if she was making excuses to herself, then there was something that she didn't want to quite admit . . .

Applause suddenly worked its way into her consciousness.

"That was really cute!" Duck heard Pike say.

"Awww, she didn't fall," said Lilie.

"Thank you for demonstrating, Fakir and, uh, Duck. Very nice. You may sit down." Mr. Cat turned to face the rest of the class. "You see, to do a proper _pas de deux_ you must not only practice to know the steps and be able to execute them properly, but also so that you can build a relationship."

The girls looked in Fakir's direction and giggled slightly. Fakir ignored them.

Mr. Cat continued. "It can be a friendship, or merely a shared understanding, but it is necessary to the performance. You cannot get by in ballet with only skill; you must have a passion for it."

- - - - - - - -

Fakir and Duck walked home together, as usual. Duck thought she might have been imagining it, but nearly all the girls in the school seemed to be going out of their way to pass them in the hallway. Duck had also caught girls giving her glares when they thought she wasn't looking. In the nicest school complex (and perhaps the only one) in Gold-crown town, gossip spread amazingly quickly.

_Well, _thought Fakir, _I am not looking forward to coming to school tomorrow. I suppose ballet is worth it, but Mytho was lucky he didn't have his heart. _

He thought of how much it must have hurt Duck to never be able to tell Mytho how she felt. _Duck, if you had been able to tell Mytho how you felt, would things have been different? _

He looked at her, walking along beside him, and sighed. _She couldn't even write him one of those silly love letters that he never read. _He could feel his own letters in his pocket. Some girls had managed to slip them into his ballet bag when he wasn't looking.

_I don't deserve them. I don't want them. I don't love any of those girls, but I think I . . . _

He didn't finish the thought. He opened the door for Duck, and they went inside.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Author's Note: _:3


	6. Chapter 6 A Chapter

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 6

There once was a chapter. This chapter had no special purpose except to supply an opportunity for a fluffy moment and to get one of the main characters a job. But did the chapter really want to be written?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Fakir watched Duck as she moved about the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

_I can't believe she insists on taking care of me like this. We trade off, but a duck cooking and cleaning? _Fakir shook his head at the thought of it.

A faint mist could be seen through the window, cloaking the streets.

"Duck, do you need a new cloak or anything?"

"Oh, not really. I hardly need it, and I can always borrow yours if I really need to. I don't mind getting wet anyway."

"You should have one. The last thing we need is for you to get a cold from something as stupid as getting wet."

The faint mist turned into rain as soon as he finished his sentence. The pitter-patter quickly turned into a pounding, as if someone were dropping nails all over their roof.

"Sure you don't want one?" asked Fakir, raising an eyebrow.

- - - - - - - -

Breakfast and several minutes later saw Fakir and Duck walking down the street to a clothes shop.

Duck had told Fakir she would turn into a duck for the way there, but he had insisted that she stay a girl, it being too much hassle when she kept changing back and forth.

Fakir's black cloak billowed out behind him, fastened at his neck with the hood up. Duck walked next to him under his cloak, holding one edge of it so that it did not billow away from her. She was small enough that it kept her from getting wet from the rain, as long as she was able to keep up with Fakir's long strides.

The streets were cobbled with large, flat, grey stones. They were slick with rain, and while although Fakir's leather boots had no difficulty keeping purchase on them, Duck did not have the same luck. She nearly slipped several times while skirting puddles, saved only at the last moment by Fakir. Luckily, most of the puddles were fairly small and widespread, but looming up ahead, Duck could see a puddle that stretched all the way across the street.

It was at the juncture of two roads, and many years of traffic had created what, with the absence of water, seemed to be only a minor dip in the road. Once filled with water, however, it became a small lake.

"Um, Fakir . . ." said Duck worriedly. It was not that she minded getting wet so much as with a body of water that size her chances of slipping, no matter what Fakir might try to do to catch her, were incredibly high.

And Fakir showed no signs of slowing down.

Duck followed, feeling she had no choice (and trusting Fakir as she did). Just before they reached it, though, without stopping, Fakir reached down and scooped her up.

"Wha –" said Duck, surprised. Fakir strode through the puddle, ignoring the splashes of water that hit him, his feet kept dry by his high leather boots.

On the other side he set her down, and (predictably) she slipped, loosing her balance completely on the cobbled street. Fakir caught her just before she hit the ground and set her on her feet.

"Still a duck at heart," he muttered.

"Hey!" exclaimed Duck, her mad-duck face manifesting itself.

He resumed walking and Duck hurried to catch up and stand under his cloak. She didn't mind getting wet so much, but Fakir had been insistent that she stay under his cloak.

"_The whole point is to buy you a cloak so that you don't _get _wet,_" he had told her.

- - - - - - - -

They managed to find Duck a dark blue cloak, and Fakir (although he insisted he didn't need it) a dark green one. His black cloak was worn through in places and patched up, and although they were getting dangerously low on money, necessities were necessary.

Fakir was silent, and stared off into the rain as they began to make their way towards the school. Duck looked at him worriedly.

"Is it the money that's bothering you, Fakir?"

He sighed. "No, but I suppose it should be. I never got a job while you were a duck so that I could be there with you, and write stories." He looked at her. "I don't want to leave you and ballet so suddenly, and I haven't found any job that would work even remotely."

"Fakir, don't hold back because of me, and since you are such an advanced student, the teachers will probably not mind if you aren't able to come to all the classes."

"I think it would be better if my job allowed me to go to ballet with you."

_What does he think will happen to me?_ wondered Duck.

They were passing the old used-bookstore where Fakir had gone to look at _The Prince and the Raven_ so many times when the library wasn't open. The building it was housed in was the sort that seemed to have been squished in between the two houses framing it on either side as an afterthought.

Fakir paused, and stared.

"What is it, Fakir?"

"Is that . . . Autor?" wondered Fakir aloud.

"Huh?"

Fakir walked towards the small building, Duck following him. As they neared the used-bookstore, Duck saw who Fakir had been looking at. In one of the small windows, the familiar figure of Autor could be seen.

"What is he doing in there again?" Fakir muttered.

Fakir opened the door and they stepped inside. It was as gloomy as ever, and Duck looked around curiously; she had never been in here before.

"You again?" was Autor's only greeting for them.

"You don't have to be so _courteous_, Autor," Fakir replied. "I just haven't been by here in awhile."

"Well, then I guess you don't know that there is a new owner."

"Really?"

"Yes. As far as I can tell, all of your bookmen left this town after you finished writing Drosselmeyer's story."

"Who owns it, then?"

"Some man who used to be a librarian."

"What are you doing here, then? Half the shelves are empty. Did the bookmen take all their books with them?"

"No, they left everything behind. But the owner apparently can't stand the state this place is in, and decided to move to some place that used to be some other sort of store, so it has built in shelves. It's down the road a bit, with a walkway in front and dust pouring out the windows in clouds. He hired a whole bunch of people to clean it out, but none of them were willing to help move the books in there, so he hired me."

"Ah. I don't suppose he's looking for more workers?"

"Yes, actually. What, have you discovered that pure talent doesn't pay for everything, and you decided to get a job?"

"I actually decided to get one quite a while ago, and I have never relied on pure talent. What's your excuse?"

"I don't need one. I'm here because money is never a bad thing, and these books are in horrible condition. Your bookmen truly can't do anything right."

"Why do you always refer to them as if they work for me?"

"Because they wanted to chop off _your_ hands!"

"Well, that's not –"

"Um . . ." said Duck.

Fakir looked at her. "Yes?"

"Maybe you should look into the job. You know, because I know the food and my clothes cost money and stuff, so even if you don't want it, I could still work a couple days after ballet -"

"No, Duck, I won't have you working. I _do_ need the job, though."

"Wait a second –" said Autor.

"Do you know how I can reach the librarian?"

"But what did you mean about the clothes costing money, Duck? Why would Fakir be buying you clothes and food?"

"Duck is staying at my house right now. The dorms are all full at the school, and she doesn't have anywhere else she can stay."

"Ah, right, since she _is_ a duck –"

"Huh? Did Fakir tell you about me?" asked Duck.

Fakir turned to her, a faintly worried look on his face. "Yes, I did. Do you mind?"

"No. It's fine." She smiled up at him.

Autor adjusted his glasses. "Well, anyway, I'm sure that it will not be too hard to find out if you can work here. Could you come by here after ballet tomorrow?"

"Yes. That would be fine."

Fakir and Duck walked back out into the rain and continued to the ballet school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Author's Note: _**Sorry this was such a lame chapter! I'm pretty sure it's the only fairly useless chapter, though, so don't worry!


	7. Chapter 7 Books and Flowers

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 7

There once was a girl who loved flowers, and wanted nothing more than to have the world full of them. There once was a man who loved books and wanted nothing more than the power to make them come true. No matter how hard they tried, they could never make either of those things happen. But would their dearest dreams affect their reality?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Several months passed. Fakir got the job, and only had to be there (after ballet) four days a week.

Ballet went well; Duck was more confident then she had been before, so she was not quite as clumsy as she normally was. She managed to stay out of the probationary class, and indeed, got into Beginners' Pointe (which was actually taught by Miss Suki).

She still attended the joint class, however, and it was in one of these that Mr. Cat announced the newest development in the lives of all ballet students.

"We will be putting on a show in two months, and we need to begin auditioning. I'm afraid that this will mess up our normal schedule." Everyone looked at him attentively. "We are trying to involve the whole ballet section in this, so could all the beginners please go to our normal classroom for auditions?"

The beginners filed out, and the rest of the class started talking.

"Auditions?"

"No way!"

"It's going to be big if they're involving the whole ballet division!"

"Yeah! How is that going to work?"

Mr. Cat cleared his throat to get their attention. "Now, you may not realize it, but we have been practicing these parts and the _pas de deux _involved. Today, we will be auditioning for the main parts.

"The parts of the leading lord and lady have quite a few _pas de deux _and require a great deal of stamina. There are also four other parts, which can be played either by boys or girls, which involve a lot of advanced pointe and can only be given to advanced students. I do not think we will have time for the rest of the parts today.

"Now, could all the boys in these classes line up for the main male part? You will be dancing that one piece we have been working on . . ."

The male auditions did not go on for very long, and Fakir was the obvious winner. It should not have been a contest, and for the leading male part it wasn't since everyone had known Fakir would get it, but for the girls it was a bit different.

Duck actually managed to do the piece all the way through without falling, tripping, or messing up at all. The rest of the girls seemed to do about as good as she did; none shone through as the best, and there was no clear winner, winners, or runner-ups.

Next came the _pas de deux_. This was supposed to be the final deciding factor between the best of the boys (Fakir) and the best of the girls (all or none of them, depending on how you look at it).

They only danced part of it, so that Fakir didn't become exhausted, and in between each one was an audition for the four other parts Mr. Cat had mentioned. However, they were far from finished all the auditions when Mr. Cat called for their attention.

"I'm afraid we've run of time for today, so tomorrow we will do the rest of the _pas de deux _and the parts we didn't get to. You are dismissed."

In what was now a routine on days like this, Fakir hung back from the group of people attempting to get out the door so that he and Duck could walk home together. The whispers and rumors about them had diminished somewhat, and Fakir received far less love-letters than he had originally.

"Congratulations on getting the main part!" Duck told him as they exited the ballet building.

"Mmm," replied Fakir.

"Of course, it wasn't really a surprise since you are so great! I wonder who will be your partner?" She looked up at the sky in thought. "Maybe someone pretty like Freya, or –"

"I don't _want _someone pretty!" said Fakir, which Duck thought was a little bit harsher than the situation demanded. "They all think they are half in love with me, and they shouldn't be! It's just a waste of their time!"

"Why is it a waste of their time?" asked Duck. Fakir was silent for a while.

"It is so sad when someone devotes their life to something they can never have."

_What is he really talking about? _wondered Duck.

"I have work today, so are you going home?"

"No, I'll come with you. That place is so dirty – I'm not done cleaning it yet."

"Alright then," said Fakir, and they changed direction.

As they neared the bookstore, Duck noticed a girl with long blonde hair coming out of a shop nearby. "Freya?"

"Duck?" asked the girl.

They immediately walked towards one another, smiling, Fakir following behind Duck.

"Oh, Freya, it is so nice to see you! How are your flowers doing?"

"They are doing wonderfully. I opened a flower shop here, so that I can share my flowers with everyone else."

Fakir looked at Freya inquisitively. "Flower shop . . . do you sell bouquets?"

Duck and Freya looked at Fakir, aghast.

"I would never hurt them!" cried Freya. "Flowers are only beautiful when you can hear their voices. They are meant to grow happily!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you –" began Fakir.

Duck turned back to Freya. "Fakir works at a bookstore, and it has a garden, but it has no flowers in it. Do you think that you could plant some in it for us? You are way better at that kind of thing than I am, so if you pick them out, we can pay you back afterwards –"

"Oh, no, I couldn't let you do that! You don't have to pay me anything. I just want the world to be covered in beautiful flowers."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Hey, do you want to see the bookstore? We are just going there now!"

"Okay," replied Freya, and they walked down the street, Fakir walking silently behind the two girls.

- - - - - - - -

The three of them arrived at the bookstore and walked through the gate, up the path, and up to the door. Before they could open it, however, it was opened from the inside, and a familiar figure in glasses stepped out.

"Ah, Fakir," said Autor. He looked at Freya. "Customer?"

Freya walked up to him. She smiled warmly. "I am Freya." Autor blinked, startled.

Duck suddenly appeared next to Freya. "Freya, this is Autor, Fakir's cousin. Well, they are actually distant relatives, but anyway, he works at the bookstore too."

"Nice to meet you," said Freya.

"Freya is just here to look at the garden and decide which flowers would be best to plant in it."

Freya smiled happily.

"What?" demanded Autor. "Fakir, we have work to do! What is this about flowers? This is a _bookstore_."

"Don't ask _me _about it," Fakir replied.

"Flowers are so beautiful!" said Freya. "They should be everywhere. Why would you not want to hear their beautiful voices?"

"What -"

"Leave it be," interjected Fakir. "As you pointed out earlier, we have work to do. Freya, do you want to plant your flowers today?"

"Oh, yes! May I?"

"Of course you can," said Duck.

"I'll be right back, then!" said Freya, and ran back to her flower shop.

Fakir dragged Autor inside the bookstore, Duck following close behind.

"What did she mean, 'their voices'?" hissed Autor.

"You know," said Fakir, "When she is with her flowers, she reminds me of you with your books."

"I – What – Never!" Autor spluttered, speechless, glaring at Fakir. Fakir merely smiled and set about his work.

"I don't talk to _ducks_, either," Fakir heard Autor mutter.

Fakir nearly turned around, but instead pretended to not have heard. The two of them needed no more tensions between them than already existed; while although Autor had accepted that Fakir did indeed posses Drosselmeyer's power and could use it on his own, the two of them could never seem to agree on anything having to do with Fakir's stories once he had written them.

- - - - - - - -

Duck was doing what she seemed to do best these days; cleaning. She was the unofficial cleaner-of-all-things-dusty-which-are-not-books at the bookstore, and was occasionally rewarded with a small sum of money from the bookstore owner. Right now she was trying to reach the highest possible shelf with a dust cloth.

It was not long before Autor walked past carrying a pile of books for shelving, muttering things like, "The condition these books are in," and, "How could anyone let them get like this?"

Duck smiled to herself. _Fakir was right. He does almost sound like Freya._

As Autor passed her again, this time empty-handed and going the other way, he knocked into her stool, almost tripping. While he regained his balance, Duck completely lost hers and fell off the stool, arms pin-wheeling.

When the cloud of dust cleared, Autor found himself lying on his back with Duck sprawled on top of him. He felt around for his glasses with one hand, and when he found them, put them on. All Autor could see for a moment was Duck's blue eyes. He felt himself blushing slightly against his will.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Duck cried, and sat up.

Autor sat up as well, and groaned a little, rubbing his shoulder.

Duck moved off of him and knelt next to him, peering at his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Autor stood, blushing furiously, and found himself face-to-face with Fakir. Fakir just looked at him.

"I bumped into her and she fell," said Autor, feeling as if he were being accused of something and needed to justify himself.

"So I heard," replied Fakir. "The noise that made could probably be heard halfway across town. Are either of you hurt?"

"I'm sorry," Autor told Duck, as if that were an answer. He dusted himself off and walked off purposely although, in reality, he had no idea of where he was going. He felt as though he had just lost some sort of fight with Fakir, and now he was trying to salvage his pride.

_This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _What am I even doing? _Duck's eyes suddenly appeared in his mind's eye, and he blushed slightly. _No, I can't feel that way about a _bird.

"Duck," said Fakir once Autor had left, "Are you having any trouble dusting?" He eyed the shelves easily twice duck's height.

"Yeah . . ." she said, staring at them as well. "Do you think you could reach them?"

"Yeah. I'll do some of those ones while you finish the lower shelves, okay?"

"Sure!"

When they had finished all the shelves in that row on their level, they stood next to each other and gazed up at the shelves that not even Fakir could reach.

"You know," said Autor, appearing next to them, "all the sliding ladders in the entire store don't work because they have rusted in place."

"Our job to fix them, huh?"

"Yeah."

"In the meantime, how do you suppose we are going to get at those shelves?"

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Huh," said Fakir.

"What?" asked Autor.

Fakir picked up Duck ("What?" she cried), stood on the stool, and hoisted her onto his shoulder. "Think you can reach them?"

"Just," she replied, straining to wipe the dust cloth along the very top shelf.

Autor stared. _What?! How can she put up with that? What if she falls? _He mentally ignored himself, and handed books to be shelved up to Duck when he was asked. However, throughout the rest of the day, he kept finding reasons that he needed to be in the same area as Duck and Fakir.

- - - - - - - -

"Phew," said Duck. "That was hard work."

"Mm-hm," said Fakir, Autor walking with them through the maze of bookshelves.

Duck opened the door and stepped outside. "Ahh, fresh air." She turned to smile at Fakir and Autor, and saw for an instant that the two young men had the same expression on their faces.

It was too quick for Duck to make out what it had been, but there had been the faint hint of a smile on both of their faces. There expression quickly reverted, though, to their unreadable, expressionless expressions.

_Hm,_ thought Duck. _I wonder what that was?_ But then she caught sight of the flowers.

"Ohhh . . ." she said. "Freya, they are beautiful!"

The whole front area between the fence and the building (except for the path) was covered in flowers of all different kinds and colors, most of which were in bloom.

"Yes, they are, aren't they?" said Freya, delicately holding her watering can amongst them.

"They are," agreed Fakir.

"Wow," said Autor. "Did you plant all those in that amount of time? I mean, that many must require a lot of care, and we don't have that amount of time –"

Freya came up to him. "I will take care of them everyday, if you wish. I do not live far from here, and my flower shop is just around the corner."

"Erm, yes," replied Autor.

"Okay, then," said Freya, and she smiled at him.

"You did a wonderful job," interjected Duck. "And thank you so much! But we have to leave now. Bye!"

"Bye, Duck!" said Freya, and returned to watering her flowers.

"I really do think that she loves her flowers as much as you love your books," pressed Fakir, "so maybe you should-"

"I do _not_ think that we would get along," said Autor severely.

"I _do_ see a problem, though," said Duck, thinking out loud. "She loves her flowers so much and you love your books so much that you might not be able to find anything in common. Although, Freya is so nice and pretty, you can't help but like her, right?" She looked expectantly at Autor.

"Hmph," he said.

"We'll see you tomorrow, then?" asked Fakir as they reached the fork in the road that led to Duck and Fakir's house.

"Yes," replied Autor, and they went their separate ways.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_Author's Note: _**Apparently Autor&Duck is _not_ a very popular pairing, lol. Don't worry, I don't like it either (and this _is_ a Fakir&Duck fanfic), and the Autor&Duck here is completely one-sided and temporary! It disappears after the next chapter. Anyway, hope you are enjoying the rest of the story so far!

I don't know what ballet to use for the production, though, so if you have any ideas, let me know. Of course, it may end up being nameless. But the main roles need to be a prince and a princess who are in love, get married, and have a happy ending. _And_ there need to be either two or four (or more, I suppose) parts that would have a lot of advanced pointe. Obviously, I'm being a little picky, but if you have any ideas . . . : )

Thanks for all the reviews!


	8. Chapter 8 Choices and Lovers

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 8

There once was a man who was in love with a woman, but the woman already had a lover. The man knew that the woman could never love another as long as her lover lived, so he killed him. But he the man had miscalculated; in her grief, the woman killed herself. Grief-stricken himself and half-mad with the horror of what he had done, the man killed himself as well. But did what they choose to do really make any of their loves any less or more pure?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The morning afterwards, Fakir and Duck walked to school together, as they always did. When the afternoon class came, they sat next to each other like they always did. But the rumors had started up again, and no one was really happy about it.

"Well then," said Mr. Cat, "Today we will be continuing with the auditions. Like yesterday, each _pas de deux _for the leading lord and lady will be separated by another audition. Now then, the first girl dancing the _pas de deux _today –"

The _pas de deux_ all went fine, same as yesterday. In between them, the auditions for the four Helpful Fairies (no one could remember what they were called) finished up, and Pike and Lilie both tried out for two of those parts. They did wonderfully. It required a lot of advanced pointe, so not many people tried out for those parts.

"This is our last _pas de deux_," announced Mr. Cat finally. The girls held their breath; Mr. Cat had only picked out the best for the _pas de deux, _so this was the last chance for the girls who had not yet danced the _pas de deux_ to continue dreaming of dancing with Fakir onstage.

"Duck," said Mr. Cat.

"What?" said Duck. She couldn't help herself.

"Duck, could you please dance the _pas de deux _with Fakir?"

"But -" protested Duck.

"You can do it!"

"Yeah, go for it, Duck!" whispered (or rather, yelled) Lilie and Pike encouragingly.

"Okay!" said Duck, and she stood up. Fakir took her hand and led her to the front of the room.

The music started, and they danced.

After what seemed like a few moments, the music stopped

– and Fakir kept dancing, bringing Duck along with him.

"Fakir!"whispered Duck. "We are supposed to stop!"

"I want to finish this _pas de deux _at least once," he replied.

The music started up again.

The lift was a bit difficult, but they managed, and it was a very nice one. They finished, and managed to draw out some applause from their classmates, and Mr. Cat.

"Very nice," he told them. They nodded and took their seats on the ground with the rest of the class.

"Well then," continued Mr. Cat, "that concludes class for today. I will have the results tomorrow."

- - - - - - - -

"Duck, I have work again," said Fakir as everyone was leaving. "You can go straight home."

"Okay," she replied, locating her spare key.

"See you later, then."

"Bye!" Duck felt a little lonely walking home by herself, but this happened a couple times a week, so she didn't mind too much. On days like this, Fakir and Duck had an unspoken agreement; Duck would cook dinner so it would be ready when Fakir got home, and the next morning Fakir would cook breakfast. All the other days it was reversed, or else they would cook together.

Duck let herself into the house and tried to decide what they would have for dinner tonight.

- - - - - - - -

Just as Fakir reached the bookstore, he noticed Autor coming towards it from the opposite direction. "'Morning," he muttered as they reached the gate at the same time.

Autor merely nodded and grunted a reply. For some reason he couldn't quite pin down, he was in a particularly bad mood. He looked around and then asked Fakir, "Where's your Duck?"

Fakir ignored the implications and answered, "She went home to start dinner."

"Home? Dinner? Oh that's right, you have a _duck _who lives in your house and cooks you dinner."

Fakir stopped, and so did Autor. They were halfway down the path, set off by the flowers on both sides. The sun was shining, but Autor suddenly felt cold.

"If your only purpose here is to insult Duck, I suggest you leave," said Fakir, his voice dripping icicles.

"_That _isn't my purpose, _Fakir_. Do you really think it is wise to have her _live _with you? Have you ever heard the rumors? They are all over the place!"

Fakir turned to face him. "What, do you now suddenly possess the power to make _rumors _come true, _Autor_?"

"You should not use Drosselmeyer's power for selfish reasons!"

"Selfish? Oh, I'm sorry, is it _selfish _to wish happiness on others? And _who_ suggested I write her story, again?"

"She's a _duck_, Fakir," hissed Autor, changing strategies. "You're taking unfair advantage of her innocence –"

"To do _what_? Make her happy?" Fakir's eyes narrowed and his voice took on a dangerous edge. "And Duck is _not_ as innocent as you think she is."

Somewhere in Autor's mind, a little voice screamed, _"Fakir could kill you if he wanted to! He just gave you a warning. You would be an idiot to ignore it!"_

Autor ignored it. "She is still just a duck. If you forget that, then you really are beyond any help that anyone can give you."

Fakir's eyes took on a glint that made him look even more dangerous, if that was possible. He took a step towards Autor, and Autor unwilling stepped back.

Autor felt something give-way slightly beneath his boot-heel, and he glanced down.

He had backed into the flowers, and it was one of them that was crushed beneath his heel. _Freya's flowers_, he thought, and suddenly felt slightly sad and afraid. _I didn't mean to hurt them._ He knew how he would feel if someone destroyed one of his books . . .

A slight movement on Fakir's part brought his attention back to the matter at hand.

"I," snarled Fakir, "will never forget that, and _you_ should leave her out of this."

"But that," said Autor, stubborn as always, "is your problem. You are always trying to protect Duck from other people, when the only one she needs protection from is _you_!"

_His sword piercing Duck's heart; a pen; the pieces of her story falling; the tears; so cold it ached . . . _

Autor saw Fakir's pupils contract and Autor felt icy fear grip his heart. Fakir suddenly took a step towards him, and this time Autor stumbled backwards so quickly, he fell. The flowers lay crushed beneath him, dying, their petals scattered . . .

Fakir's hand moved ever so slightly, and Autor's gaze was drawn to the sword that Fakir carried at his waist out of habit.

Fakir's right hand gripped the sword's hilt, fingers curling around the leather. Autor's eyes widened. _He wouldn't . . . _

Fakir gently increased his grip on the sword hilt. He inched it out of its sheath, and two inches of deadly steel were now visible. Autor watched with horror as it increased, unable to move.

"_Fakir!_" screamed a voice, high with panic.

- - - - - - - -

Freya paused in watering her flowers when she heard the screams.

At first, it was only one voice, shrill and thin. It was cut off suddenly, and Freya felt her stomach lurch. "Wha -" She walked outside and stood on the sidewalk, looking in the direction that it had come from.

Then the rest of the screaming started.

The watering-can dropped from her limp fingers, and she began to run towards them.

"_No! Please, not my face! Arghh -" _cried one.

Slowly the screams began to grow fainter, although she was coming closer to their source. The wind and the pain she could hear in those screams brought tears to her eyes so that she could hardly see, but she kept running.

- - - - - - - -

"_Fakir!_"

He had only the faint impression of some red-orange hair before someone grabbed him from behind.

"Please, don't . . ."

Fakir suddenly felt more tired than he had in a long while, and all his strength seemed to drain away. "Duck . . ." he whispered. His hand relaxed its grip on his sword, and the few inches of steel visible disappeared into its sheath.

"Okay, Duck," said Fakir, and Duck let go.

"I think it would be best if I didn't go to work today," said Fakir, apparently talking to no one in particular. "I will just go home instead."

"Okay, Fakir," said Autor quietly.

Fakir extended his hand to Autor, who hesitantly took it. He was pulled to his feet, and Fakir looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry," was all Fakir said.

"Fakir . . ." said Duck, putting her hand on his arm. He shrugged her off, and turned to leave.

Just then, Freya appeared within shouting distance. Seeing how urgently she was running, the three others stopped and stared. It soon became apparent that Freya was crying, almost hysterically, and that she was heading towards them.

"What -" said Fakir.

"The screaming!" cried Freya. "Why are they screaming? They shouldn't be! Make it stop!" She ran through the open gate and stopped in front of them.

"Freya -" said Duck. But then Freya looked past them, as if they weren't even there. They followed her gaze to the bed of crushed flowers.

"No," whispered Freya. "It stopped. They're gone." The tears flowed down her cheeks. "No!" she cried, and started to throw herself to her knees in front of the dead flowers.

"Freya!" said Autor, and caught her caught her just before she hit the ground.

"I could hear them screaming," whispered Freya, staring at something none of them could see.

Autor's expression became one of sorrow. "Freya, I am so, so sorry."

"They're gone, all gone," continued Freya, still seeming oblivious to reality.

Autor suddenly felt scared for her. "Freya," he said, sternly this time, and he shook her. "They aren't gone forever! They will come back!"

Freya's eyes finally focused on Autor's. "But -"

"And if they don't we will plant new ones!"

Freya smiled slightly through her tears, and then collapsed, sobbing, into Autor's arms.

Autor's expression was one of surprise, but he gently wrapped his arms around Freya and looked as if he wanted to never let go.

Duck smiled, and realized that she had tears in her eyes as well. Hastily wiping them away, she looked up at Fakir.

"Let's go," said Fakir, and Duck nodded.

Neither of them said a single word the entire way home.

- - - - - - - -

Fakir and Duck sat next to each other on the couch in front of the fire, the stars glinting at them through the windows.

"Fakir?" asked Duck hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay? Is anything bothering you?"

"No, Duck," he said without looking at her. "I'm fine."

Duck gave him a worried look, but returned to the book she was reading while Fakir did the same.

At some point, Fakir realized that Duck was leaning on his shoulder.

"Duck . . ." he said, freeing his arm from where it was pinned against him. To do so, he had to nudge her shoulder slightly, and when he did so, her book slipped from her limp fingers. He realized that she had fallen asleep.

He shook her gently, and her eyes flicked open. "Duck," he whispered, although how that would help her wake up, he didn't know.

"Fakir," she murmured, and closed her eyes again.

Fakir sighed. "Very well, but I need to fall asleep as well, and it's freezing out here." He set his book down and picked up Duck.

She was still out so he lay her gently on her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. In the little light there was, Fakir could see that her expression was peaceful. He stared at the ceiling.

"Do you hate me, Duck?" he whispered into the darkness. "Because of a stupid argument, I nearly drew my sword on my own relative and friend. I don't know if I would have been able to kill him, but still . . ." Fakir paused and put a hand over his face. "The sad thing is, I think he may be right."

"I could never hate you, Fakir," came Duck's reply out of the darkness.

Fakir jumped. "I . . . didn't know that you were still awake."

"I just woke up about when you started talking. What were you and Autor arguing about?"

"Nothing really important. How did you know that we were arguing in the first place?"

"Oh, well, Pike and Lilie were passing by you guys, and they said they heard my name mentioned, so they came straight over to get me. They didn't come with me, though, because they _said _that they had extra practicing to do."

"Hm."

"But were you arguing about what has bothering you?"

"Nothing has been bothering me, Duck. Go to sleep, and I will see you in the morning."

_Even after all we have been through together, he still shuts me out,_ thought Duck sadly. Then she turned over and tried her best to fall asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Author's Note: _Whachya think about Autor and Freya? ;) They're my newest crack pairing! I just couldn't leave him single.

Sorry about the Autor and Fakir scene; I know it was a bit overdramatic. -.-'


	9. Chapter 9 A Princess and a Prince

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 9

There once was a beautiful princess and a handsome prince. They met accidentally and fell in love at first sight. They were married, and lived happily together for the rest of their lives. If they had not met, though, would they have met others with whom they fell in love with even more deeply, and lived even happier lives, with?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day at ballet, everyone could hardly concentrate. The girls kept giggling nervously and whispering to one another.

"Who do you think got it?" asked Pike, as she, Lilie, and Duck were stretching together. None of them had to ask what she was taking about; it was only the most coveted part in the whole upcoming production!

"Since Rue isn't here anymore," said Lilie, "it isn't as obvious who will be the leading lady. If they get over her utter lack of grace, even Duck isn't so bad."

"Hey . . ." said Duck.

"It's true," said Pike. "I was surprised you got to dance the _pas de deux _with Fakir."

"And all the way through, too!"

_They're wrong, _thought Duck. _I _am _just a duck. Maybe Mr. Cat just wants me to fail so that I have to marry him! Oops, wait – wrong Mr. Cat . . . _

"But, you know," Pike was saying, "even if Rue were still here, who knows if she _would _have been the leading lady. She was so good at pointe; maybe she would have ended up being one of the 'Helpful Fairies,' or whatever."

"But," interjected Lilie, "the leading lady has so much stage time! It requires a lot of stamina, besides knowing how to do the part, which is why beginners can't do it."

"Well," said Duck, half talking to herself anyway, "Rue didn't have as much stamina as the main part would need. Like, this one time we were looking for Mytho together, and we we saw him, so we were running after him, and when I stopped, Rue was way far behind me, and totally out of breath! And whenever she tried dancing this one part of _Giselle, _she would fall down halfway through it, so -" Duck stopped, noticing that Pike and Lilie were looking at her.

"Oh, how cute!" cried Lilie. "Duck thinks she's better than Rue, even though she's only in Beginners' Pointe!"

"That's the spirit, Duck!" said Pike. "Aim high -"

"So when you fail, you have so much farther to fall!"

"Huh?" said Duck.

"Don't worry, we'll catch you!" said Pike and Lilie together.

"And support you all the way there!" added Pike.

Lilie looked at her. "Really? You think that she'll get that far?"

Duck felt a sweat-drop forming. "Uh, you guys, how about we stop talking about who _would _have gotten it. Who do you think will get the part?"

The clock chimed. "You can't really say," said Pike, "but we find out in an hour!"

- - - - - - - -

As everyone entered the classroom, there was no whispering. Everyone was too exited to whisper. They were all talking quite loudly instead.

Duck sat down next to Fakir as usual. They didn't say anything to each other, and Duck noticed that the girls, especially those who had danced the _pas de deux _with Fakir, sat near them.

As soon as Mr. Cat entered the room, everyone stopped talking. He was holding a piece of paper. Those closest to him tried to look at it, but he held it so that none of them could see it. "Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Cat."

"I have the results here from the auditions." The class already knew that. "So . . . I'll start with the main parts. The, erm, "Helpful Fairies" are Sylvia, Karen, Pike and Lilie from the advanced class." Everyone applauded. "The leading lord is Fakir." He got some applause, too, but everyone had already known that he would get that part. "His partner will be -" He paused, unknowingly or knowingly increasing the tension. The girls held their breath.

"Duck."

"Yes?"

"Congratulations. You are the leading lady."

Her mind went blank. "But I'm only a– in the Beginners' Pointe class -" she protested weakly.

"I'm sure with some practice you will do fine. You and Fakir dance very well together."

Duck got some scattered applause, led mainly by the enthusiastic Pike and Lilie.

"Yeah, Duck! You got it!"

"When you fail, I'll comfort you!"

Everyone else joined in when they noticed that Fakir was applauding for her, but she sensed some resentment from the females in the room.

Mr. Cat continued with the lesser parts, but Duck was hardly listening. _Why did Mr. Cat pick me? I'm still not very good at ballet, and I'm only in Beginners' Pointe. And now all the other girls are going to be avoiding me. Not that they talk to me anyway._ She sighed.

"– so this list will be up on the wall over there if any of you want to check. To practice for the ballet, all ballet classes with be joined from now until the performance. Duck and Fakir, can you two please stay after class?"

Everyone exited the room, and Fakir and Duck looked up at Mr. Cat.

"You two complement each other very well when you dance, and you have a good understanding of each other. Duck, you may not be in the advanced class, but your individuality and energy will lend strength to your performance. Being the leading couple, I expect you to practice regularly, especially the _pas de deux_. You have several, and the last one will be especially challenging. I will see you tomorrow." They nodded and left.

- - - - - - - -

The next two months passed in a cloud of practicing ballet, and practicing, and trying on costumes, and practicing. Every morning Duck and Fakir would go early to practice, and practice after school, and go on weekends to practice.

Fakir was gentler than usual, and he helped Duck with steps she was having trouble with. He would guide her through a scene, step-by-step, and then they would dance it all the way through. He caught her when she fell (which was often, although not nearly as much as it would have been a year ago), and gave her tips on how to dance.

Duck knew that there was no on else she would rather have be her dance partner than Fakir.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," said Duck one day.

Fakir moved her in a circle as she stood on one foot in pointe. He looked at her strangely. "Uh – you're welcome."

They preformed the lift, getting it right this time.

"I'm glad you're my partner, Fakir," said Duck with a smile.

"I'm glad you're mine, too, Duck." He was silent for a moment as he and Duck did a small weaving dance around one another. "Would you have wanted Mytho to be your partner?"

"No," said Duck, without hesitating. Her sincerity surprised both herself and Fakir. "I loved Mytho, but he never knew who I really was, and I guess I almost loved him different than Rue did. I am glad that they ended up together. I think that I having a secret would have affected our dancing."

_Will my fear for you affect our dancing?_ wondered Fakir.

- - - - - - - -

The ballet division was only putting on two performances; one on Saturday, at night, and on Sunday, for the matinee performance.

In the ballet, Duck was a princess and Fakir was her prince, and their costumes matched accordingly. The costumes had been designed and made by a group of volunteers, mostly from the art and drama divisions. Even if the ballet division managed to totally mess up the production, no one would be able to say that they had bad costumes.

Duck's costume contained a "romantic" tutu, the really stiff kind that is made of netting supporting a piece of cloth over it. Hers was a royal blue with silver designs and decorations. Her leotard was the same deep blue, decorated with the same designs, with silver leaves curling up the front. She also wore the little gossamer-type sleeves that were worn, separate from everything else, so that they stated mid-way between shoulder and elbow and ended just at the elbow.

Her tights were white and her ballet shoes matched the rest of her outfit. She also had a delicate little silver crown that rested just above her braid, which had been twisted into a bun.

Fakir had a matching outfit, with the same ballet shoes and white tights, and a silver crown with similar designs on it. He wore a royal blue tunic with the same silver designs, under which he wore a full-sleeved white shirt.

- - - - - - - -

The morning before their first performance, Fakir woke up and wished he hadn't. The early practicing was getting to him, and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

_If I skip all my morning classes, would they kick me out of the performance? No, they wouldn't be able to do that, but . . . _He groaned at his ceiling. _I _should _get up before I fall back asleep. . . _He rolled onto his side and sat up. He grabbed his clothes and stumbled out his bedroom door . . .

. . . and into Duck. She fell backwards with an "Ouch!" while Fakir merely swayed slightly.

"Ah . . . Duck, you okay?" asked Fakir, still half asleep. He held out a hand to her and pulled her to her feet.

"Oh, Fakir, you're awake!" She rubbed her sleep-blurred eyes.

"Well, you can take a shower first," they both said at the same time. They both whirled around to return to their rooms for the few minutes of sleep they could salvage while the other one was occupied. They paused and looked at each other.

Fakir sighed and ran his had through his hair. "Duck, why are you still wearing my shirt?"

"Oh," said Duck, looking down at it. "Is it okay? Do you mind? I can give it back to you . . ."

"No, no," said Fakir, flapping his had at her and reentering his bedroom. "You can keep it. It doesn't fit me anymore anyway."

Duck smiled, and Fakir paused in his doorframe. "What? Is that funny?"

"Well, it is just so big on me, so thinking that it is too small for you is just kind of weird."

Fakir smiled a little. "What, now you're calling me fat?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I just meant that you are so much taller than me -"

Fakir smiled and ruffled her hair. "I was joking, Duck."

"Huh? A – a joke?"

"What? Was it that bad?"

"I just can't remember ever hearing you make a joke before. I guess it's a good thing, because it means you're happy, Fakir."

"Hm," he said. "Well, now I'm too awake to fall back asleep, so you can take a shower first."

"Okay. Thanks."

- - - - - - - -

About an hour later, Duck and Fakir were walking together towards the school.

"You know, Fakir," said Duck, "It's kind of funny because Mytho is a prince, and I guess Rue's his princess, and you were Mytho's best friend, and I guess I was sort of Rue's best friend. Now in this ballet, you are playing a prince and I am playing a princess! Also, Mytho and Rue got married, and we get married in this ballet, which is kind of weird. Only in the play, our costumes don't change that much except that I get to wear a veil. I really liked Rue's dress, though. When I get married, I want a dress like that, only not as fancy since I'm not a princess."

A smile twitched at the corner of Fakir's mouth. "What, are you planning on getting married sometime soon?"

"What? Oh, no, I didn't mean it _that _way -"

"I was _joking_, Duck."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot that you tell jokes now!" She smiled at him.

"Okay. Duck, just today to practice, and then we have our first performance tomorrow."

"Yup."

- - - - - - - -

Saturday was spent in nervousness, with the feeling that they should be doing something useful, but there was nothing they could do. They were restless and bored, and they went to the dressing room a little earlier than they needed to.

The entire school seemed to be in a state of chaos. People ran back and forth, carrying of sets and costumes. Fakir and Duck went to work as soon as they had their costumes and make-up on. They rushed about, trying to not get in the way and often failing (in the case of Duck). Eventually, everyone was backstage, the curtains were closed, and the murmur of the expectant audience could be heard.

The lights dimmed, the curtains opened, and the ballet began.

It went perfectly. No one forgot anything, no one tripped, the set didn't fall apart. If anyone made any mistakes, they were minor and hardly noticeable.

The ballet ended with a dramatic flourish; a _pas de deux _between Duck and Fakir, with a lift that ended in what would have been, in any other sort of production (drama, for example), a romantic dip-kiss. Instead, they ended with their faces only a few inches apart, and they had to hold that position until the curtains closed.

The moment the last note of music echoed through the room, the curtains close, the lights brightened, and the applause started. Just behind the curtains, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The curtains opened again for the bows. Everyone entered the stage in twos or threes, bowing in the center of the stage, and then going to alternating sides of the stage.

Duck and Fakir came on last; Duck jumped and Fakir caught her in a lift. Duck raised her left hand and Fakir raised his right, accepting the applause, before he set her down and they came to the front-center of the stage.

Everyone bowed as a group; once, twice. They backed up, the curtains closed again, and the ballet was over.

"_Very _nice," said Mr. Cat, coming out from backstage to congratulate them. "You all did wonderfully! You certainly practiced a great deal, and put your hearts into it. Do the same tomorrow, and you will all do just as well!"

There was a mad rush to the locker rooms, and when Duck and Fakir finally appeared from the chaos, they both realized exactly how exhausted they were. They stumbled home in the dark (Fakir half thought that he was going to have to carry Duck home), but luckily they had already eaten dinner so with a few mumbled "G' night" s, they collapsed onto their respective beds and were almost immediately asleep.

- - - - - - - -

They slept in late the following moring, and Fakir cooked breakfast in exchange for Duck having done so the day before.

Duck slowly entered the kitchen. "'Morning, Fakir."

"Good morning."

When she sat down, he placed a steaming cup of tea in front of her and toast with her favorite jam on it.

"Thank you."

"We're going to need the caffeine," he replied, referring to the tea.

"Yeah," she said, and sipped at it.

He watched her eat and wondered whether it really mattered if she were a duck or not. He used to envy her innocence, but he wondered if she was still innocent – and what the definition of innocent was.

They walked to the school together as always. As soon as they entered the building, they were swept into the rush of preparing and dressing. With the confidence of having done it all correctly in front of and audience once, the tension was slightly lessened.

Once again, the lights dimmed, the curtains opened, and the ballet began.

It went just as smoothly as before. No obvious mistakes, no accidents, nothing forgotten. Once again, the final _pas de deux _between Fakir and Duck began.

Duck was getting tired, but she put renewed energy into the last _pas de deux_. They performed the lift perfectly. Duck could feel the flow of how they danced together; they seemed able to read the other's movements as if they were their own. The music ended, and their faces were only inches apart. Fakir held her just right, supporting her.

He stared into her blue eyes, which were always so happy and bright. She could hold his attention so easily, just by looking at him with those eyes.

Duck had never really noticed how green Fakir's eyes were. It was such a pretty shade of green. He was so close to her . . . and then his head bent down, closing the scant few inches between them.

Almost as soon as their _pas de deux_ had ended, the knight kissed the duck.

There was a collective, "Awww . . ." from the audience. And, of course, since they had to hold their ending position until the curtains closed . . .

It was surely only a few seconds before the curtains met, but to Duck it felt like an eternity.

With a soft _swish_ the velvet curtains closed. Fakir let go and pulled her to her feet. He strode off-stage to his position for the bows, and Duck stared after him. _What? _was all she seemed able to think.

"Duck!" Pike and Lilie hurried to her side. "Bows are only in a few moments!"

"You can't be on the stage when the curtains open again!"

"Oh . . . okay . . ."

"Come _on_!" They dragged her off stage. Everyone one else went on-stage, in their groups of two or three, and bowed. Then it was once again Fakir and Duck's turn for applause.

As Duck ran towards Fakir, he refused to make eye contact with her. She jumped, and he caught her. The applause this time was far louder than it had been at their last performance.

Duck and Fakir came to the center of the stage for the group bow, and Fakir gripped her hand. _What should I say? Should I say anything? _thought Duck worriedly. She was acutely aware of his hold on her hand, and she didn't know what to do.

Then the bows were over. Duck considered trying to find Fakir and – do what? Talk to him? What about? But in the post-ballet chaos, Duck had lost Fakir almost as soon the curtains closed on the end of the bows.

She changed out of her costume in the locker room, and when she came out, Fakir was waiting for her just outside the school. He silently turned and walked in the direction of their house. Duck looked at him worriedly, and then followed him.

"Look," said Fakir after a few moments, his voice annoyed, "I'm sorry if it bothered you, okay?"

Duck didn't need to ask what he meant. "No, it's not something you need to apologize for -"

Fakir stopped suddenly and looked at her, blushing slightly. "Then _why _do you keep looking at me like that?"

Duck looked up at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Fakir. I didn't mean to bother you, but -" She looked down. "Something has clearly been bothering you lately, but you won't tell me what's wrong, and then doing something so sudden like that -" She looked up at him, tears threatening to overflow. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

Fakir expression softened, and the blush faded from his cheeks. "Duck, I didn't know you were so worried."

"Well, of course I am, Fakir!"

"Oh, Duck." He smiled, bent down, and gently kissed her.

This time she wasn't so surprised, and let him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Author's Note: _Cliche, I know.


	10. Chapter 10 The Last Chapter

_The Duck and the Knight_

Chapter 10

There once was a story. The last chapter of the story was, well, the last chapter, and it was almost over. All of the characters in the story, whether they liked it or not, would always be part of the story, even after it had ended. And yet, if their lives continued past the pages of the story, did that last chapter really end at all?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rain dripped down from the eves, crawling down window and scattering itself across the street. Gold-Crown town was the sort of place where it never snowed in the winter, but instead rained endlessly until everyone felt drowned.

Duck stared out at the rain pouring down from the sky. She remembered when she was a duck and it didn't matter too much when it rained because she was already wet, and the water just slid off her feathers. But that was when she felt the loneliest, and that was when Fakir let her stay at his house. He was always so kind to her, and he cared, even when he pretended not to . . .

_Fakir. _She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. _I'm still just a duck at heart. I was never meant to be with Mytho, but I guess I knew that from the start. Fakir, you spent so much time protecting Mytho from everything, and you felt as helpless as I did when you couldn't help him. Was that the only reason you helped me? To feel as if you were doing something for him? _The tears came faster, while the rain outside still kept up its constant pitter-patter. _Did he just kiss me because he felt sorry for me or something? Am I supposed to be a girl? _

Footsteps behind her told her of Fakir's presence.

"Duck?"

"I . . . I feel lost, Fakir." She looked out at the rain, as if asking it, What should I do?

From where she stood with her back to Fakir, duck could not see his face, but his expression softened. "Then I will help you find your way."

Duck turned towards him suddenly. Fakir hadn't realized that she was crying so much. She looked like she might say something, but Fakir took a step closer to her without even realizing it. She threw herself forward a bit and buried her face in his shirt.

Duck sobbed quietly into his shirt, and she felt him gently wrap his arms around her. Fakir was warm, and – as she had established previously – he smelled nice. She knew, when he held her like that, that he did care, and her musings were only the result of a troubled heart. _I just want to make you happy, so why do you always end up comforting me?_ She always felt cold, lately, even if her skin wasn't.

"Why do you feel lost?" asked Fakir, once her sobbing had subsided.

"I feel like . . . like this won't last. Like there is something missing, or there's something here that isn't supposed to be."

Fakir sighed into her hair. "I know what you mean. Like something is unfinished. That feeling has been haunting me for a while now."

"Is that what has been bothering you?"

"Some of it." He released her from his hold. "But I was rereading your story again last night, and thinking about it, and I think it _is _something in the story."

"But what could be in the story that is still affecting us?" asked Duck.

"See, that's it. Do you remember that story I wrote you to get you out of Drosselmeyer's place, that one time he took you to try and stop the story?"

"Yeah. But you burnt it, and I never got to read it." Duck smiled slightly at the memory.

"Well, I was _able_ to burn it because everything in that story had already happened. But in this story, I wrote that the pendant enables you to change between being a duck and a human. The story is the thing that allows the pendant to do that, so if it were destroyed . . ."

"Oh." Duck stared quietly out at the rain again. "Is that what you meant, that one time when you told me that people should not devote their lives to something they can never have?"

"What?"

"When we were practicing together for the ballet, you told me that. I thought that you might be talking about yourself, although I couldn't figure out what it was you could never have. But I guess it applies to me, because it seems that no matter how hard I try," a tear trickled down her cheek, "I will never be able to be human, because that seems to be what I want most now. I'm supposed to just be a duck."

No more tears fell, and perhaps that hurt Fakir the most, because it meant that Duck accepted and truly believed that she could never have what she wanted most. "Duck," he said quietly, "I have only ever seen you loose hope once before. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes," came the quiet reply. "But even after that, I turned back into being just a duck. I can only ever seem to be a girl when someone needs me to be. Not when _I _need to be."

"Your fate," said Fakir, "should be whatever you want it to be, not what the story says it is." He gasped. "That's it!"

"What is, Fakir?"

"If I finish your story," he said slowly, "by saying that you could choose whether you were human or not, and that the story no longer had any control over you . . ."

Duck looked up at him. "Would that work?"

Fakir frowned. "I think so."

"But won't you have to start a new story to do that?"

"No. When you turned back into a duck, I began writing a story containing all that happened to you during that whole time when you were able to become Princess Tutu. That bit about you becoming a girl again? That was just another chapter."

"You wrote about all that? But why?"

"I guess I was worried that what had happened to you would be forgotten, that _you _would be forgotten. Drosselmeyer, Rue, and I are the only ones who really knew who you were. I never wanted you to be forgotten, not even by those who never knew about it in the first place."

"Thank you, Fakir," said Duck, and hugged him tightly.

"Well, I _did _promise that I would stay by your side."

"Fakir," said Duck, blue eyes earnest, "You no longer have to keep that promise. That was for when I was duck, but I think I can manage by myself now. I would really like it if you would stay, though."

"And I will," replied Fakir. "If you want me to, I will, because I -" His voice faltered, "- I _want _to stay by your side. Forever."

They stood there for a moment in silence, Duck held in Fakir's warm embrace.

"Hey, Fakir?" said Duck after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that you will ever write a story where you are the main character? Because I would really like to read a story about you."

"I never thought about it, but . . . maybe I will."

- - - - - - - -

The rain crawled down the window pane. Fakir followed the path of a single raindrop as it slowly trickled down the glass. The light coming through the window was not golden, but a light grey. In being filtered through the clouds, all the color seemed to have been drained out of it.

That pale light illuminated Fakir's desk. Just one sheet of paper lay there. He wouldn't need any more than that.

Just one story, just one pen, just one man . . .

_And just one duck. _Fakir had long ago given up searching for what was "right" and what was "wrong," but writing this story was making him question himself more than he liked.

He was afraid.

_I cannot let fear rule me like this! _thought Fakir forcefully. _The fear of loosing someone should not make me afraid to help them! _

The paper lay blank before him.

He put his head in his hands. _Duck, if I hurt you, please forgive me. _He picked up the pen, and pressed it down on that one sheet of white, white paper.

- - - - - - - -

Duck sat on her bed, thinking, wondering what she would do if this was all taken away from her. _Last time, I didn't want the story to end either, but I had to accept it. And it ended. With me as a duck. _

She heard the soft footsteps of Fakir in room, and then his door opened suddenly.

When Fakir caught sight of Duck, he stopped, his expression relaxing into one of relief.

He stood there for a moment, framed in the doorframe. He seemed paler than usual, even though he hadn't been in his room for more than fifteen minutes.

Duck rose and looked at him, concerned.

Fakir hesitated at approaching Duck. It seemed that this was some sort of dream, or a story happening to someone else, and that Duck was only an illusion. It felt as though if he touched her, she would vanish into a speck of light. Or turn into a duck again.

"Duck, I have no idea if it worked at all. I might not really be able to write stories about you anymore."

"How exactly can we tell?" asked Duck worriedly.

"Well, I'm not sure about the way stories work, but I don't think the pendant would work anymore if this did work. So, I guess, take it off."

"Okay, Fakir." She hesitated. "Could you . . . take it off for me? If it doesn't work and I turn into a duck again, or if I will never be a girl again, I want you to have it. And I'll just drop it if I turn into a duck." Her voice grew quieter. "I just don't want it to break."

"Yes, Duck."

Duck's large blue eyes looked into his green ones. Fakir started at them, reminding himself that whether or not Duck was a duck did not change who it was that looked out at him from behind those eyes.

Fakir gently undid the clasp and the chain slipped off her neck, coiling into his hand, cool, like water.

Nothing happened.

Duck smiled. "Fakir, thank you for giving me this choice. I want to stay here with you forever."

"For – forever?" He realized that his fears had always kept him from looking at the future, for fear that it would be snatched away. But Duck was still here, and he realized that they both had futures.

Fakir held Duck tightly. "It's been two years since we met, hasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So, you're fifteen now. And I'm nineteen." _Four years age difference. It's not so much, but . . . _He smiled into her hair. _I can wait. _

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Author's Note: _I'm sorry about the angst-y fluff. T.T I can't resist!

And was that age bit way to random? Gomen . . .


	11. Chapter 11 Epilogue

_The Duck and the Knight_

Epilogue

Fakir wrote a story about himself, like Duck had asked, and it sold a lot of copies, as did his book about Duck (though who knows how many people believed the, "A true fairytale" at the beginning of each one).

Duck got her wedding dress that was almost like Rue's, "only not as fancy."

Freya did the flowers (not cut, of course!) and Duck got a live bouquet. Freya caught it in an attempt to save her flowers, but then she bumped into Autor . . .

Not so long after, the two people who had once been, and in their stories always would be, the Duck and the Knight could be seen sitting at the edge of a pond, surrounded by, I suppose, their Ducklings. And the Duck and the Knight were never lonely again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


End file.
